Maniacal Changes
by Daddy
Summary: Johnny, newly freed from being a 'flusher', gets a buddy! Yay!
1. The beginning, you silly geese!

Maniacal Changes

Knock knock

Silence

Knock knock

Silence

Knock knock

Tip tip tip tap tap tap thunk thunk thunk snick snick snick snick rattle creak "Hello?"

"Hi, Johnny."

"And just who the hell are you? Is there some kind of sign out here, 'Come visit your local, friendly serial killer'?"

"Call me Peter. No, there's no sign."

"What do you want? I'm busy…" Shrieks of the damned echo up from the floor.

"I can hear that. I want to help you."

"What?"

"… you're in pain. They know that. I've been sent to help you. To stop your pain. To stop the destruction of yourself."

Stare

"You will either let me inside now, or you will come out here. There's no more reason for walls between us. Not ever again."

SLAM

"Oh, Johnny. I guess you're going to fight me all the way… So be it."

"What an asshole. What does he know? Nothing. Nothing of my torment… Strange that he seems to have an agenda about it, though. That's kinda creepy." Tap tap tap tap tip tip tip tip creak creak

creak groan creak creak rip thunk thunk

"These boards are rotted. He should keep better care of his house. No matter, easier for me. Maybe later I'll set him to work…"

tap tap tap tap tip tip tip tip creak creak "Hmm… I wonder what floor he's on. Guess I just follow the fiercest screams."

Tap tap tap…

42 floors later

…shrit shrit shrit "Damn, that's a long walk."

Stare

"How did you get down here!? What the fuck are you doing in my house? No one wants to be in my house! Get out!!"

"I climbed through a window. I was looking for you. I want to be wherever you are, and you're in the house. No."

grit

"One last chance before I dismember you. Leave."

"Dismember me. It could be fun."

Swish pounce tear render screaming

"Damn it!! I don't even need another body right now! You fucker, you messed up my day planner! I spent a month on that!"

Squelch squelch tear sploosh squirt squirt "You really enjoy this sort of thing? Seems messy to me…"

"SHUT UP AND BE DEAD ALREADY!"

"Johnny…"

tear rip tear rip squish mash mash mash "NO! QUIET!!"

silence

drip drip drip gurgle "There. Now there's one less thing to hold me back. That wall's getting pretty dry…"

"You feel better now?"

"AAHHHH!! Shit, you're dead! Why are you talking!? And moving!? What are you doing, don't tear those out-"

squelch squelch squelch

"Johnny, I'm starting to think I'm going to have to take control of this situation. You just don't want to let me do what I'm here to. And I need to. I do."

"Stay down, stay down! Don't get up, don't come near me! Just die already!" stab stab stab

"Stop it. I'm not going to die."

Clatter

"Why not?"

"Oh, don't sound so disappointed. I'm not really alive to begin with, so… It's kind of hard to die."

"…you're another figment of my imagination? But… I've never heard you before. Where did you come from? Did you split from another voice? Are you like the Doughboys? Here to destroy me? Control me? I won't let anyone control me again!"

stab spatter spatter rip tear drip drip

"Oh, stop it, now. That's not doing anything. And you're jumping to conclusions. I'm not here to control you."

"…when are you going to leave?"

"Never."

"Stop saying that! You have to leave! Everyone leaves!"

"Not anymore. I'm never going away from you." Shrip shrip shrip hug

"Don't- DON'T TOUCH ME!! THAT'S DISGUSTING! GET YOUR FILTH OFF OF ME!!"

"No."

"STOP!! STOP!!"

"Don't panic. Calm down. There is no filth here. No dirt or disgust. Calm down. Breathe."

"No no no…" struggle

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Stop it now. Everything's okay."

"No, it's not. Never okay. Never good. Stop touching me! It hurts!"

"…what does the pain feel like, then?"

"It burns. There's all kinds of squirmy things on my skin, where your arms are. I'm going to be sick. I'm going to puke all over you if you don't let go."

"…be sick if you have to. I still won't let you go, and then we'll both be standing her, covered in vomit. That sound better to you than just this? Than just comfort?"

"It's not comfort. It's not comfortable. Let me go now, before I get really mad."

"I won't let you fall apart."

"What the fuck?"

"Shh, shh. Quiet. Breathe. This really is quite a nice room. A little gory, a little dusty, but I like the design. Do you know how long you've lived here?"

silence

"Hmm? Do you know?" gentle

"No. No, I don't know. I don't have a fucking idea, memory, or any kind of concept of my life before all these killings… the bloody wall, and the doughboys, and the voices… I don't know anything. Just that, I'm being controlled. Everything's controlling me for some sick purpose I may never know."

"I thought you said that you weren't being controlled anymore. That you wouldn't let that happen. And yet, you say that's what's happening. Why, Johnny? Why do you let them kill you?"

"Because I don't know what else to do. There's no other choice. Without the voices, I'll be even lonelier. I won't even really be alive anymore. At least now, I have company, and the screams help too… I smell the stench of death around me constantly, and I know the difference between that and my sweat. My own stink. That means I'm alive."

"You're dying like this. Those voices are only parts of you, you know that. You are alone, the way things are now. The guilt of these murders is crushing you, to just look at you it can be seen."

"These people are evil."

"No matter. So what if they hurt, mock, and scar with words or fists? They change people, they modify lives, they don't destroy them."

"They destroyed mine."

"No, they didn't. You are alive."

"But I'm dying. Didn't you say that? They began my death, and still continue to kill me slowly… They are worse than I. I may bind them and torture them for a while, but many die much quicker than they should. My binding, my torture, has been going on for longer than I can remember, literally. I've been stabbed countless times… And even in my revenge, even when I try to help the world by taking out the shit, my own guilt comes over me. I don't understand it. I'm doing good things, yet I feel bad… And there's no one to say I do good things. That this is all worth while. I truly am alone, in everything."

"No, not any more. Johnny?"

"…yeah?"

"Do you believe that there could ever be a change for you? An actual future, instead of just this shame, this rage?"

silence

"Hmm?"

"No. But I guess you're going to tell me something different?"

grin "Yes, yes I am. I'm here, now, and I won't be leaving. Let's go upstairs, the screams and moans are distracting."

"…okay."

"Who sent you?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

Silence

"They're just mad about all the dead bodies they've have to process since you came along." Chuckle

"So you're really not another voice in me? You're really real?"

"Yeah. I'm really real."

"And you'll NEVER leave me?"

"Nope."

"What do you get in return? What's in this for you?"

"I'm controlled too, Johnny. The ones who sent me, said that I could have my freedom if I did this. And, to be quite frank, I was lonely too. And I don't think you're a bad person. I want to get to know you very well."

"So, I get to keep you, and I stop killing? Is that it? It's like some sort of bribe?"

"Yeah, it sure seems like that. If you stop killing, there won't be anything to control you, since you don't obey them anymore. They'll leave you, Johnny. The voices, these Doughboys, too, it'll all leave. It'll just be one voice inside of you, one voice named 'Nny'. Do you accept?"

Silence

"I'll give you all the time you need, Johnny. I won't make you do anything. What kind of way is that to start a friendship?" smile touch

Stare "You promise all these things on your very soul?"

"I don't have a soul. But, whatever it is that does make me a being, yes, I swear on it that every word out of my mouth is the absolute truth."

"Okay… I accept. When do you start?" smirk

Grin "I already have."

"So, uh, no soul, huh? How does that work?"

"Well, it's all quite interesting, see-"

End

I don't know, I think I need to re-read the series before writing any more fic. This idea, though, just came to me, and I had to write it or else forget it. I don't know if I got Johnny's personality well enough, and am very shameful over introducing my own chara. But, I couldn't think of anyone off the top of my head that could do it, so, oh well. I meant it to be a lot slashier than it is, if it is at all, but when writing it out Johnny didn't want to cooperate. JTHM is pretty good, although I really only got into it in Part 4. If only they made Invader Zim comics… I wonder if there's any doujinshi… *lol* ^^ Thank you for reading.


	2. One morning late:

Wow, what a sorry piece of crap. Didn't turn out how I wanted at all. But, still, I will unleash it upon the masses, and I won't be sorry! Bwahahahah Uh, since I didn't give rights before, I guess I should do so now. Jhonen Vasquez owns what he owns, SLG owns what it owns, everybody just owns what they own. simple, yes? And I'm not making money off any of them. Really. If there was a way, I'd do it, but seriously, who would buy my fanfic? You'd either have to be brain-dead or drunk- Okay, before I ridicule myself any more, let's just start the fic. Little note: I actually went to the Girl Scout site. I laughed my ass off, and I hope it shows. oh, and this is kind of a continuation of 'Maniacal Changes', but, also kind of a spoof. yeah.  
  
One morning late:  
  
"Johnny, could you come in here? We have guests." Peter leaned on the plaster-coated wall, trying to find a spot where his shoulder didn't get poked with nails.  
  
Johnny walked in, drying his hands off on a paper towel. "We don't get guests-" he stopped dead in his tracks as he made eye contact with the visitors and let out a girlish shriek. "Girl Scouts!?"  
  
"Hello!" the head Girl Scout greeted him with a brace-emboldened smile. Her red pony-tailed hair bounced and her green skirt twirled as she strolled over and presented him with a box of Caramel deLites. "They're America's Best Cookies! Buy some!"  
  
Johnny only cringed back and continued to scream in horror.  
  
"Oh, come on, Johnny. Take the cookies. Take them." Peter smirked. "I've already bought ten boxes- just open your fists, close them around the sides of the box, and pull it towards you."  
  
Johnny gibbered. "Cute. little girl. sugar. aghhhhhhh." but his hands did come out of hiding and clenched around the diabetes-inducing treats.  
  
"Thank you, sir!" the little girl beamed and Johnny was momentarily blinded by the glare. "Buy some more!" she ordered.  
  
Johnny gave Peter a wild look. "Girl. buy. no.. help.?" He dropped the cookies as his brain re-routed all power to keeping his pants dry.  
  
Peter, by this time, was guffawing at Johnny's all-consuming fear of small sweet things selling small sweet things. "Okay, okay, I guess you've had enough trauma." he wiped tears from his eyes as he went and opened the door, and ushered the three girls who had been silent out. He closed it softly behind them, and turned back to Johnny, who had been backed up against a wall by the girl wanting more money.  
  
The girls who had been pushed out the door blinked and rubbed their eyes, trying to figure out what was going on. How had they gotten to the front door? Just a second ago, they had been on the sidewalk, playing 'Bubblegum Bubblegum', and trying to decide who had to go and talk to the 'creepy people'. As we all know, Girl Scouts should never be without an adult or guardian, but for all intensive purposes of this fic, we're going to make everyone who knows these girls really stupid. Suddenly, the over-whelming sense of doom that hung over the house crashed down on them, and they ran screaming into the night, forgetting everything they ever knew, much less that their friend was still inside the creepy house with the creepy people, who everyone knew were serial killers and ate corn flakes for dinner. Without milk.  
  
Meanwhile, back inside, Johnny was still gibbering in fear and Peter was taunting him, while the Girl Scout went on about monetary payment like a broken record.  
  
"Peter, so help me, if you do not- ah! Get away, demon spawn!- get this thing out of the house this- Aie! No, no! No tengo dinero!- instant, you will never know the end of your torture- Stop! No touching in the danger zone! Agh!!"  
  
"Hmm." Peter made a great show of thinking. "Let's see. Torture, torture. Oh, I know! You must be talking about how you always leave the fruit punch out. Or how you never put the toilet paper on the hanger, and it always falls into the tub, which is always wet 'cause you can't stop taking at least five showers a day, and that reminds me, do you know when the last time I had a shower is? Because I sure as hell don't. How could I possibly get in the bathroom, when you're in there whenever I'm not asleep- are you in there when I am asleep, too? Are you secretly female, Johnny, and touching up your make-up? Oh, wait, I've got another one-"  
  
"Argh! Okay, stop! I get it! I'll do whatever you want, just kill her! She's starting to drool!" Johnny was trying to actually climb up the wall to escape the grasping hands.  
  
"Promise?" Peter pouted at him, arms crossed, hips out, and trying so hard not to laugh.  
  
"YES!" Johnny tried to estimate just when to kick to get her head to get it to come completely off.  
  
Peter snapped his fingers, and the girl froze. She looked up at Johnny, who was trying to maneuver his body so he could stay on the wall and still kick her without him falling, and then around the building, which she was beginning to realize she didn't recognize at all. Backing away from the hyperventilating maniac in front of her, she bumped into Peter and screamed in surprise.  
  
"Hey, hey," he grabbed her shoulder, "What's wrong?"  
  
"Who- who are you?!" she spun out of his grasp and her eyes skittered around the small, dank room, looking for her escape.  
  
"I'm Peter. That's Johnny. This is our house. You're not going to get out."  
  
"What do you mean?" she began to cry in fright, and ran as far from the two as she could. "Please let me out. I don't want to die!"  
  
Johnny had hidden behind Peter as soon as the girl had run, and peeked over his shoulder, whispering harshly, "Let her out! She finally wants to go, so make her! You promised!"  
  
"Actually," Peter smiled over his shoulder, "I promised I'd kill her. Don't you want me to do that?"  
  
"No!" Johnny looked horrified. "Such a cute corpse! She'll infect stuff, with. cooties and stuff! I couldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole! Come on," he whined, "you said you'd get rid of her."  
  
Peter shrugged. "I don't know. She's awfully fun."  
  
Said girl was now clawing desperately at the wall with her Passion-Pink Stick-On nails.  
  
Johnny, slowly coming out of his phobia because the menace was more-or-less a safe distance away, began to show his anger. "Peter, now!"  
  
Peter sighed mournfully. "Fine, all right, take all the fun out of everything." The hysterical child disappeared with a popping sound and a pink could of smoke.  
  
Johnny, on to Peter's game by now, asked in a deep and spooky voice, "Where did you put her?"  
  
Peter only turned and smiled at him, putting a finger to his cheek and thinking out loud. "Hmm. Where could I have put her. Let me see." his eyes flickered from Johnny's doomy stance to the stairway leading to the sublevels. "I can't remember."  
  
Johnny growled and took a step towards him.  
  
"Maybe if you caught me, it'd jog my memory."  
  
Johnny halted with one foot up and blinked at him, "Caught? What do you-" his unfinished question was answered a moment later when Peter leapt past him and sprinted down the stairs.  
  
"You bastard," Johnny shouted as he lunged after him, "You're going to be really sorry when I shoot a nail through your head!"  
  
Cackling laughter echoed up from below him.  
  
Whee! Let's see what horrors I can come up with next! 


	3. One month later:

More spoofiness! Only, now we're getting into the Hot, Gay Action! Only, since I can't actually write Hot, Gay Action!, we're just going to allude to it. Enjoy!  
  
One month later:  
  
Peter sat in front of the beat-up, flop-eared television, and chuckled as cartoon characters kept trying to kill each other in new and creative ways. "Wow, he'll never emotionally recover from that." He periodically drank some mustard out of the bottle, followed by a shot of vegetable oil.  
  
He suddenly heard something stomping up the stairs, and turned his head just in time to neatly avoid a small-ish corpse from hitting him in the face. It instead struck the wall, where it slopped and slowly slid down, leaving little tid-bits behind.  
  
"Now what's got you in a bad mood?" he asked.  
  
"That, you may or may not recognize, was your little prank." Johnny glared and dropped into the seat next to him, making a face when he saw that Peter has been taking mustard and oil shots again. "I thought you had got bored and switched to honey and dirt."  
  
"I switch on and off when I feel like it." Peter mused, staring into Johnny's face and thinking. "What little prank?"  
  
Johnny sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair, Peter never remembered anything he did past a day. It was useless trying to get him to stay penitent.  
  
"The Girl Scout? The one you hid somewhere in the house and I never found until today? And that's your fault, too-"  
  
"What? That's my fault, too?" Peter put on his most hurt face.  
  
Johnny leaned in and grinned, nose to nose. "Yeah, although I wouldn't stop you if you wanted to do it again."  
  
Peter smiled, "First you're mad, and then horny? What a switch! When I first came- sex was the absolute last thing on your mind. Now, it's at least the second."  
  
Johnny pouted. "And that's your fault, too! I went from a psycho murderer to a sex fiend. I don't know how farther down I can get."  
  
Peter purred at him. "Oh, I know how low you can go." He put a hand on Johnny's shoulder and pushed him down toward a rather obvious destination.  
  
Johnny went with the hand, but paused and looked up at him with a sardonic smile. "You do know that there are screams and giggles coming from the TV, and a rotting corpse splattered on the wall and spreading out on the floor right behind us?"  
  
"Yes." Peter answered simply, and began to pant as Johnny worked his voodoo magic.  
  
A dead body continued to decompose.  
  
I laugh at you. And then I feel bad. But, still, I laughed. 


	4. A sunny afternoon:

Okay, I've been seeing a trend in my writing, and that is that I've been making a totally pansy-assed Johnny. For that, I am truly sorry. Let's see if I can do anything to correct this grievous mistake.  
  
A sunny afternoon:  
  
"Rrrrr." Johnny growled at the squirrel that perched on the bird feeder. The squirrel, one tough customer, looked him right in the eye, and gave him the squirrel-y finger.  
  
Johnny, incensed, barked and lunged at the little bastard, forgetting that the chain wasn't really that long, and ended up choking and gasping on his back, clawing at the collar for more breathing room.  
  
Mr. Macho Shit AKA the squirrel, jumped off the bird feeder and onto Johnny, biting and clawing and trying his damnedest to make sure Johnny would never procreate again.  
  
A bar brawl ensued, and the spectators gathered, ranging from red-boobied robins to one entertained human named Peter standing at a window. Bets were placed, and the crowd shouted up a storm, rooting for their favored to win.  
  
Finally, after a few minute of intense nut-kicking action on both sides of the competition, the dust cloud settled, and only one fighter was left standing. Johnny, triumphant and primal, crouched over the dead body of the squirrel and yelled, "ROWF ROW RUFF RUFF ROOOOOO!" which translates to "I AM KING OF THIS YARD!"  
  
Disgusted, the masses dispersed, except for one small field mouse, purse over-flowing with her winnings. She now had enough to move to Tahiti and live out her golden years in a relatively comfortable home, even without her pension! Suddenly, a paper rained down from the sky at a fantastic speed and crushed her. Damn paperboys were always so late.  
  
Johnny, still full of adrenaline, clawed at his collar, trying to tear it off so he could find a safe place in the yard to bury his new treasure.  
  
Peter walked out, and seeing that Johnny was scratching himself quite bloody, called him over and released him from his imprisonment. He smiled as Johnny scampered off and dug into the dust that made up the yard, dropped his prize in and scraping all the dirt back on top. He circled the dirt mound a few times before dropping his bruised and beaten body down on top, and proceeded to take a well-deserved nap.  
  
Peter looked on with a sense of peace and loving, and was sorely tempted to leave Johnny out for the night. But, if he did, he knew Johnny would be even angrier with him then he was now. But he did look so cute in little floppy ears. Peter sighed and snapped his fingers, and checked to make sure the padding he had strapped on was secure enough to protect his vital parts for a few seconds at least.  
  
Johnny blinked and cocked his head when Peter had snapped his fingers, and slowly sanity seeped into his eyes. He. was outside. and he hurt. Sitting up, he inspected himself for a moment. Bruises, scratches, sore throat, naked, goose bumps, fuzzy dog ears strapped to his head. Could only mean one thing. Jumping up from the little mound with all the grace and ruthless power of a. well, not panther, but not turtle, either. Maybe a mix. Anyways, Johnny sprinted for the only bastard that could have made him thought he was a dog, and landed head-on, knocking them both into the house.  
  
Another fight started, only Johnny was punching and cursing and Peter was lying there and taking it. With padding.  
  
After a few moments, and realizing that Peter wasn't going to move, he sat back and glared into his enemy's face. "Why," pant, "did you," pant, "do that?"  
  
Peter blinked. "I don't know."  
  
Due to technical difficulties, and that there hasn't been a microphone created yet that would be able to pick up all the subtle nuances of a scream of rage that intense, we now skip to the last scene in this chapter.  
  
"Johnny?" A mournful call echoed in the black room. "Johnny, are you there? I really have to go to the bathroom."  
  
Half an hour later. "Johnny, please! Please, I'm begging you! I'll do anything you want! I'll- I'll even apologize! Just, please! I have to go! Right now! JOHNNY!!!!"  
  
Steps sounded on the stairs, and the door opened a crack, permitting a slim crack of light into the room, silhouetting a skinny body and spiky hair. "You want something?"  
  
"Never mind."  
  
I do so love the potty humor. 


	5. Da swimming hole:

I couldn't apologize more for my bad Sheakespeare-speak. If offended by poorly spelled and chosen words, then you must be a masochist. It's okay, I'm one too.  
  
Da swimming hole:  
  
"Johnny, I do believe today would be the perfect day for a swim." Peter stood looking out the window, and gave his arms a good stretching. The day wasn't all that bright, nor all that hot, but when you're bored anything'll do.  
  
"What, in water?" Johnny yelled from the room that most resembled a kitchen.  
  
"Would you rather swim in gelatinous goo?" Peter strolled over and lounged in the doorway, watching Johnny's cute ass wiggle as he searched the barren wastelands of their fridge for some sort of sustenance.  
  
"Maybe." His voice echoed up form the yawning cavern.  
  
"Well, anyways, I haven't been outside all that much, and would rather like to go. Would you care to join me?" Peter tried to put all the smooth persuasion that he could into his voice.  
  
"I'll think about it." Having finally found some type or wrapped snack item, Johnny strolled past Peter and made for the basement stairs.  
  
"Well, don't take forever about it!" Peter yelled after him, huffy that Johnny didn't acquiesce immediately. He, instead, plunked himself down on the couch, a favorite retreat of his that was beginning to make up a large part of his waking hours. Flipping on a relatively violent station, he half- consciously reached a hand under the couch to look for something to consume. Sticky, slimy, bony, dusty- ah! A bottle! He pulled it out and skimmed the label. Yes, he remembered what he had put in here. Very potent. He set himself to gulping.  
  
Some time later. yeah.  
  
"Oh, horrible, cruel world! What hast I done to thee to be mutilated so?" Johnny stumbled into the dying room, clutching at his chest and sporting some rather festive doublets and hose.  
  
Peter, slurping down something I don't want to discuss, paused a moment to blink at the colorful, creepy man. "What happened to you?"  
  
"Crush-ed by a weight none could have foretold- I am sorrowful. and crush- ed!" He limped to the couch, and fell dramatically over the arm, right into Peter' lap.  
  
Peter stared at him, and cautiously reached out a finger to see if the make- up was real. It was. Peter stared in growing horror at the white smudge on his digit, and looked from it to Johnny and back again.  
  
"Doust though not share in thine mockery? Mighten thou portend to lift me up from the mire?" Johnny blinked rather coquettishly at him, and linked his arms behind Peter's neck.  
  
Peter could only stutter. And drop his drink on the sofa. The stain, and smell, will never go away completely. But I digress.  
  
"Oh, Peter-o, Peter-o, my love, my lovely, wilt though rescue me? I have been made sure there is reward enough." He pulled Peter's face to his, and puckered for a kiss, eyes slitting ever-so-sexily.  
  
Staring with eyes full of bewilderment and a good bit of horror, Peter jerked away from Johnny, and leapt off the couch, dumping Johnny on the floor. Screaming something about bright colors and insane psychos, he ran straight out the door and was never seen again. Or maybe not.  
  
Johnny hefted himself off of the floor in the wake of Peter's flight, and startled to cackle. No one made him swim in water, no one!  
  
He went and washed the make-up off, and changed into his street duds. Today seemed like a good day for a stroll. Maybe he'd find some goo along the way. 


	6. The Interlude Experiment!

I've been thinking, what the hell makes people review? I've seen a few consistent things, and they're length and violence (insanity and slang help too). Not particularly sure on the length thing, since I enjoy the shorter ones myself (can't help the ADD), but the violence factor makes sense, since this is JTHM fic. It's too bad I don't do violence often/well, even though when I'm brainstorming it always comes up in some way. In my mind, but not on the paper. Okay, enough of that- This portion of the fic will be dedicated to my hypothesis- let's see if the numbers turn out, shall we?  
  
~~~  
  
Johnny, seeing that Peter wasn't getting the absolute dooming that he deserved, cranked another left and just missed a willow leaning out over the road. This, of course, sent Peter into another fit of gripping the dash and hunching as far back into the upholstery as possible, all the while begging in a hysterical voice, "Stop the car!!"  
  
But Johnny's fit of maliciousness was not over yet, and he hauled back one fist not clenched around the steering wheel and let it fly right into Peter's left cheek, which had already been sporting a day-old bruise. "I'll stop the car when I damn well want to! This is what you deserve!"  
  
Peter could only sob and curl his body as far away from Johnny as possible in the small car. "Why do I deserve this, Johnny?" It was a well-known fact to Johnny that Peter hated cars more than anything else, and Johnny had used that fear to goad him into a short drive through the country-side.  
  
"You irritate me night and day, Peter! I was happy when I was alone, by myself! I was at peace! But, no! You just have to come along and never shut up! What do I have to do to make you just shut up!?" He swerved a few more times, weaving in and out of a ditch, much to the surprise and annoyance of a farm truck behind him, which setting to beeping and passing the little compact by.  
  
"Well fuck you too, Mr. Farmer! I'll kill you next time I see you!" Johnny shook a fist out the driver-side window. He then turned to Peter, small and pale beside him. "Are you sorry, yet?"  
  
"Yes, of course!" Peter sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Johnny! Please forgive me! I won't ever do it again!"  
  
"But that's the problem, Peter!" Johnny, thundered at him, "You always do it! Even right after you apologize, you go right ahead and annoy me some more! What will it take to make you learn, Peter?" the crazy gleam in his eye shined brighter and brighter, and Peter could only whimper in immobilized terror.  
  
"I-I don't kn-now." His haunted eyes searchingly pleaded with the half-way sane Johnny to come back.  
  
"You don't huh?" Johnny mocked him, sneering. "I think I know just the thing. I hate that you drove me to it, Peter, " he swerved once for every slowly-sounded syllable of the name, "but it's the only thing that will help me now."  
  
Peter dreaded the answer, but fatalistically decided that if he was going to get horribly mangled he might as well know about it before it happened. "And- and what is that?"  
  
A toothy grin was his only reply for miles.  
  
After some time, the car slowed and Johnny pulled into an over-grown driveway that only lead farther and farther back into the wilderness. He drove until he thought that there couldn't possibly be anyone else around, then slammed on the brakes and turned off the car, jamming the key deep into his pocket. Out his own door and beside the passenger before Peter could even unbuckle his seatbelt, he yanked Peter out when he finally freed himself and pulled him along for many meters.  
  
Johnny finally halted in front of a giant pine tree that had had it's lower limbs hacked off, and instructed Peter to stand, leaning against the trunk, and not to move one inch. If he tried to run away, his punishment would be beyond imaging.  
  
Peter had no cause to doubt the claim, so shivered and nodded tiredly, wrapping his arms around himself in the last hug he would ever feel.  
  
It took a few moments, but Johnny crept silently back and grinned happily at Peter when he saw that the shaking man hadn't tried to escape. He quickly went to work on the man, tying him to the tree with strong, coarse rope, until Peter could hardly breathe against the tightness of the rope wrapped around his chest.  
  
"There!" Johnny crowed, rubbing his hands together and looking at Peter as if he were some new toy. "Now I can work without you getting in the way. Do you think you'll need a gag, or can you keep yourself quiet this time?"  
  
Peter gulped hard, and if it was possible, even more fear came into his eyes. He knew what it meant to scream when Johnny wanted him silent. "I think- I think I need the gag, Johnny. Please." He added with a tiny sigh.  
  
"Sure," Johnny nodded understandingly, and brought out a handkerchief that he tied off behind Peter's head. "You need anything else before we start?" he laughed, knowing Peter couldn't make himself known even if he did need anything which didn't matter anyway.  
  
Johnny dove back into the bag he had gotten the rope out of, and soon produced a scissors and a few used rags. A bottle of alcohol followed, a nail-clippers, a razor, and a tweezers.  
  
Johnny approached the bound form in front of him with malicious glee shinning through every pore he had. "My revenge will taste so sweet- and you'll finally learn your lesson!"  
  
Agonized sobs only echoed in the forest as Johnny got to work. He snipped with the scissors, cut with the razor, and doused with the alcohol. He pinched with the tweezers and he clipped with the nail trimmers. He went about his work, grinning and humming tunelessly, and after some moments had passed, he stepped back to observe his work. A masterpiece!  
  
Peter's unruly beard/goatee hybrid had been savagely hacked until it once again resembled some form of facial hair, and only reached out an inch or so from the skin. The rest of his face had finally been shaved, and a few spots that Johnny had nicked had been washed clean with the stinging alcohol. Any visible nose or ear hair had been duly plucked, and for good measure just one or two eyebrow hairs had gone along with them, just to see Peter wince. Johnny had even gone so far as to pull off Peter's shoes and socks to attack both ragged sets of nails that had inadvertently scratched him any number of occasions.  
  
Done and satisfied, Johnny put any his supplies and unwound the rope from Peter, letting the man stumble forward and moaningly run his hands over his face and pull off the gag. Johnny quickly ushered the both of them back to the car, where Peter got in, trembling, and Johnny started them back towards civilization.  
  
"You can be so cruel, cutting off parts of me, like that." Peter sniffled at Johnny with loathing.  
  
"It's better than either of us getting the crap knocked out of us just because you have no grooming habits." Johnny could sound very imperious.  
  
"That only happens 'cause you hit me for accidentally scratching you!"  
  
"And you hit for me for hitting you, and then we fight! It's better this way."  
  
Peter was silent for a moment. "I see you at least like my hair."  
  
Johnny gave him a look. "I like all of you, you asshole. Stop being so stupid."  
  
"I'm not being stupid! Just, I wish you wouldn't be such a harpy. I mean, do I ever say anything when you bring knives into the bed and we both wake up a little bloodier than we went to bed?"  
  
"No." Johnny grumped darkly.  
  
"So why do you have to punch me at all? Why can't you just let things go?"  
  
Johnny only stared out at the traffic-laden highway.  
  
"Can it be that you've grown as intolerable as the people you hate?" Peter looked at him sadly.  
  
Johnny clenched his jaw tighter, refusing to be baited.  
  
"Maybe- Maybe you could use some therapy, Johnny. I'm sure that there's lots of people out there that could help you."  
  
"I'm not going to a therapist! They'll just be like all the others!"  
  
"What if I go with you? Like, if we went to a couple's therapy session? I think we both could benefit."  
  
Johnny didn't answer at first, but after a bit growled, "I'll try it once. But if it doesn't work, all bets are off and we'll never do it again."  
  
Peter sighed with relief. "At least that's finally settled."  
  
There was a dead silence in the car until they got within sight of their house.  
  
Peter turned to Johnny with a smile, "So what TV dinner do you want tonight?"  
  
~~~  
  
Can I say that was pretty weird, even for me? So, do you think it has what it takes to work? 


End file.
